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xp_logsLorna and Warren demote Quentin after his rave-fueled rage ended a case, but also offer him a chance at redemption.
Lorna was reading over the paper work from the shit storm that happened last Friday. It has was a headache and Lorna was still trying to smooth over the nightmare with Warren's help. Turning the last page, Lorna signed it. It was not good but at least it would be over but the consequences would forever linger over XFI. Lowering her head until her forehead hit her desk, Lorna groaned. She had been having this persistent migraine since the start of it. It was only when she heard someone walking by did she turn to catch a glimpse of just the man she wanted answers from. "Wait." She called out as she jumped up to quickly follow the young man.
Quentin had been hoping he could get through the day like normal. Just get back to work and live in an alternate reality where he had done nothing wrong. He had even brought coffee for the office, the good kind of coffee, and donuts, too, to help ease the transition.
The tone of Lorna's voice made it clear no such fantasies would come to life.
He did his best to hold back a sigh as he turned into the small conference room and set down the breakfast treats, and then turned to face his green-haired doom.
Warren had been going through the motions over the last week. Bobbi wasn't returning his calls, he was on the phone with lawyers constantly...the only good thing was that the media didn't care about another mutant being hurt. Thank God no one had realized it was Q -- mutant-on-mutant crime WAS news.
Returning to the conference room, he was surprised to see the object of his headaches. "Venti Americano." Warren raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least you've done one thing right this week. The second thing would be getting down on your hands and knees before your Lord and Saviour Lorna and explain what the fuck is going on."
Lorna held up a finger to Warren with a slight glare, "Don't start." It was reference to the title he gave her before turning towards Quentin, "But I want to know what the fuck you were thinking. We shall start from the beginning." A chair near Quentin moved as if inviting him to sit. "Sit."
"Presumably, in the beginning, a man and a woman loved each other very much, at least for one night, and nine months later, surprise." Quentin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sat, telekinetically sending Lorna her coffee and summoning his own. "Look, I don't . . . neither of you would understand. It's, just . . ." He sighed.
Again an eyebrow twitched, similar to the other day when Warren was being, well Warren. "You don't get to back out of this one Quentin. You did something illegal and now we demand answers. That is easy enough to understand."
"What she said." He was there to play bad cop or good cop ... either or worked fine for him. "We don't need to understand," Warren said, adopting the same plaintive tone Quentin used. Or maybe just the whine that Warren heard every time Q opened his mouth. "This job isn't for you to feel good about yourself. This job is to help other people, which is completely opposite than beating them up or others. We don't use violence. You want violence, go join the spies. I see the haunted look in their eyes, maybe you want it too."
Quentin pursed his lips, his gaze moving between Warren with his uncharacteristically even tone and Lorna, barely restraining her rage. After a moment of silent argument with himself, he sighed again and looked down at the cup he held. "I tried Rave," he admitted. "I thought . . . I thought the push would get my telepathy working again. You said it yourself, Worthington, I'm worthless without it. But it didn't work. God-level telekinesis and the best high I've ever had, but still no telepathy."
Lorna's heart dropped at the confession of what Quentin did. After a minute, she pinched the bridge of her nose - that fucking drug. "You don't need be a telepathic to prove your worth. And Warren, you really need to watch what you say to your employees." Shooting a glance at Warren for good measure. "But Warren is also right about one thing, we don't use violence against others. If we do, we are no better than the jerks who can push around other people to get their way. We work within the law so that evidence can be uphold in court." Lorna lowered her hands and looked at Quentin for a good while. "We lost the case because of your actions on Thursday night."
Warren did not feel bad at all for what he said, but he gave Lorna a perfunctory nod. If Quentin was weak enough to turn to drugs, that was his problem. "Right, so we learned that drugs are bad, and you don't have the ability to take them with no consequences. We also learned that no man is an island, and you can't just go around being a vigilante." He sighed. He just wanted this all to go away. "I don't know if you knew this, but back in the day, I did that. I was the avenging Angel, and I beat the shit out a lot of people. And then someone I cared about got involved and hurt pretty bad. As much as we all think we could do better, we can only do what we can do. And for you, Quentin, that means off of cases until you can get all this shit under control. Lorna, Sue and I have all talked, and you're back on office manager duties. We can't have a loose cannon out there. Fuck, if I had it my way, you'd be out there doing some serious PR too. Kissing babies and petting puppies or something, but that still wouldn't be enough right now."
"What Warren is trying to say is that instead of punishing you, even if you would be fired in any other company, we want to support you so you make better decisions in the future. We want you to go back to school and get a degree, it will be hundred precent paid for. Also no more rave, if this was a one time thing it can be forgiven. But that drug is no joke." Lorna said.
"You have a lot of nerve to judge me, Worthington," Quentin said, his fingers twitching as he spoke. "You can't get through a day without pills and coke. Maybe if you weren't fucked out your head all the time and could keep it on your pants, then your girlfriend, the only other investigator here — and therefore the person we need here to even call ourselves an investigative firm — wouldn't have run away screaming. But I guess we all make mistakes, don't we?" He turned to Lorna and his expression softened. "I don't deserve this." Though he said that without any of the hostility laced into his tirade against Warren. "I mean, this . . . compassion. I don't know what to say."
"Oh believe me it is taking every fiber of my being not to knock you to next week, but I am trying to keep my temper in check. It won't solve anything if I do that." She would be no better than her dad if she unleashed fury on him. "Getting an education, better understanding the system, knowing the ins and outside, that will." Lorna looking straight at him. "No one deserves anything. But people should get a second chance. Except that lawyer asshole that wanted to sue us but we managed to settle."
It was easy to ignore Quentin's comments about his drug use, mainly because that would have started another argument and he could tell that Lorna was about done with this whole situation. With a sigh, Warren put down his coffee cup. "Well to be fair to that asshole lawyer, we were the ones that made the $100,000 dollar mistake. So don't misunderstand this as 'compassion', Quire -- I just paid for you to have the most expensive lesson of your life. That's one hell of an investment, and I don't like losing money. Talk with Lorna or Bobbi, find out what requirements you need to start studying, and within a few years, you can boss Maya around with that smirk you like to wear. " He stuck out his hand. "We have a deal?"
They were not giving much of a choice between indentured servitude and abandonment. Quentin nearly picked the latter out of spite, but rationality prevailed for once in his miserable life, so he took Warren's hand in his and sealed the deal as gentlemen do. He took back his hand as quickly as he could, though, and glanced around for hand sanitizer.
"Warren, we really need to work on your people skills." Lorna shook her head - that could had been said a lot better. Looking over at Quentin, "I expect you to graduate. Once I see that certificate, you will be allowed to work on cases on your own. Until then Bobbi or I will be involved. No more Rave, no more bashing down doors. And don't let your powers define your worth. If anyone says anything to you about it, point me to them."
"Sure, Mom. So, if that's all?" Quentin stood and took a Boston cream donut from the box before heading for the exit. He stopped at the door for a moment, though. "You're probably going to regret this," he said softly, "but . . . thanks."
Lorna was reading over the paper work from the shit storm that happened last Friday. It has was a headache and Lorna was still trying to smooth over the nightmare with Warren's help. Turning the last page, Lorna signed it. It was not good but at least it would be over but the consequences would forever linger over XFI. Lowering her head until her forehead hit her desk, Lorna groaned. She had been having this persistent migraine since the start of it. It was only when she heard someone walking by did she turn to catch a glimpse of just the man she wanted answers from. "Wait." She called out as she jumped up to quickly follow the young man.
Quentin had been hoping he could get through the day like normal. Just get back to work and live in an alternate reality where he had done nothing wrong. He had even brought coffee for the office, the good kind of coffee, and donuts, too, to help ease the transition.
The tone of Lorna's voice made it clear no such fantasies would come to life.
He did his best to hold back a sigh as he turned into the small conference room and set down the breakfast treats, and then turned to face his green-haired doom.
Warren had been going through the motions over the last week. Bobbi wasn't returning his calls, he was on the phone with lawyers constantly...the only good thing was that the media didn't care about another mutant being hurt. Thank God no one had realized it was Q -- mutant-on-mutant crime WAS news.
Returning to the conference room, he was surprised to see the object of his headaches. "Venti Americano." Warren raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least you've done one thing right this week. The second thing would be getting down on your hands and knees before your Lord and Saviour Lorna and explain what the fuck is going on."
Lorna held up a finger to Warren with a slight glare, "Don't start." It was reference to the title he gave her before turning towards Quentin, "But I want to know what the fuck you were thinking. We shall start from the beginning." A chair near Quentin moved as if inviting him to sit. "Sit."
"Presumably, in the beginning, a man and a woman loved each other very much, at least for one night, and nine months later, surprise." Quentin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sat, telekinetically sending Lorna her coffee and summoning his own. "Look, I don't . . . neither of you would understand. It's, just . . ." He sighed.
Again an eyebrow twitched, similar to the other day when Warren was being, well Warren. "You don't get to back out of this one Quentin. You did something illegal and now we demand answers. That is easy enough to understand."
"What she said." He was there to play bad cop or good cop ... either or worked fine for him. "We don't need to understand," Warren said, adopting the same plaintive tone Quentin used. Or maybe just the whine that Warren heard every time Q opened his mouth. "This job isn't for you to feel good about yourself. This job is to help other people, which is completely opposite than beating them up or others. We don't use violence. You want violence, go join the spies. I see the haunted look in their eyes, maybe you want it too."
Quentin pursed his lips, his gaze moving between Warren with his uncharacteristically even tone and Lorna, barely restraining her rage. After a moment of silent argument with himself, he sighed again and looked down at the cup he held. "I tried Rave," he admitted. "I thought . . . I thought the push would get my telepathy working again. You said it yourself, Worthington, I'm worthless without it. But it didn't work. God-level telekinesis and the best high I've ever had, but still no telepathy."
Lorna's heart dropped at the confession of what Quentin did. After a minute, she pinched the bridge of her nose - that fucking drug. "You don't need be a telepathic to prove your worth. And Warren, you really need to watch what you say to your employees." Shooting a glance at Warren for good measure. "But Warren is also right about one thing, we don't use violence against others. If we do, we are no better than the jerks who can push around other people to get their way. We work within the law so that evidence can be uphold in court." Lorna lowered her hands and looked at Quentin for a good while. "We lost the case because of your actions on Thursday night."
Warren did not feel bad at all for what he said, but he gave Lorna a perfunctory nod. If Quentin was weak enough to turn to drugs, that was his problem. "Right, so we learned that drugs are bad, and you don't have the ability to take them with no consequences. We also learned that no man is an island, and you can't just go around being a vigilante." He sighed. He just wanted this all to go away. "I don't know if you knew this, but back in the day, I did that. I was the avenging Angel, and I beat the shit out a lot of people. And then someone I cared about got involved and hurt pretty bad. As much as we all think we could do better, we can only do what we can do. And for you, Quentin, that means off of cases until you can get all this shit under control. Lorna, Sue and I have all talked, and you're back on office manager duties. We can't have a loose cannon out there. Fuck, if I had it my way, you'd be out there doing some serious PR too. Kissing babies and petting puppies or something, but that still wouldn't be enough right now."
"What Warren is trying to say is that instead of punishing you, even if you would be fired in any other company, we want to support you so you make better decisions in the future. We want you to go back to school and get a degree, it will be hundred precent paid for. Also no more rave, if this was a one time thing it can be forgiven. But that drug is no joke." Lorna said.
"You have a lot of nerve to judge me, Worthington," Quentin said, his fingers twitching as he spoke. "You can't get through a day without pills and coke. Maybe if you weren't fucked out your head all the time and could keep it on your pants, then your girlfriend, the only other investigator here — and therefore the person we need here to even call ourselves an investigative firm — wouldn't have run away screaming. But I guess we all make mistakes, don't we?" He turned to Lorna and his expression softened. "I don't deserve this." Though he said that without any of the hostility laced into his tirade against Warren. "I mean, this . . . compassion. I don't know what to say."
"Oh believe me it is taking every fiber of my being not to knock you to next week, but I am trying to keep my temper in check. It won't solve anything if I do that." She would be no better than her dad if she unleashed fury on him. "Getting an education, better understanding the system, knowing the ins and outside, that will." Lorna looking straight at him. "No one deserves anything. But people should get a second chance. Except that lawyer asshole that wanted to sue us but we managed to settle."
It was easy to ignore Quentin's comments about his drug use, mainly because that would have started another argument and he could tell that Lorna was about done with this whole situation. With a sigh, Warren put down his coffee cup. "Well to be fair to that asshole lawyer, we were the ones that made the $100,000 dollar mistake. So don't misunderstand this as 'compassion', Quire -- I just paid for you to have the most expensive lesson of your life. That's one hell of an investment, and I don't like losing money. Talk with Lorna or Bobbi, find out what requirements you need to start studying, and within a few years, you can boss Maya around with that smirk you like to wear. " He stuck out his hand. "We have a deal?"
They were not giving much of a choice between indentured servitude and abandonment. Quentin nearly picked the latter out of spite, but rationality prevailed for once in his miserable life, so he took Warren's hand in his and sealed the deal as gentlemen do. He took back his hand as quickly as he could, though, and glanced around for hand sanitizer.
"Warren, we really need to work on your people skills." Lorna shook her head - that could had been said a lot better. Looking over at Quentin, "I expect you to graduate. Once I see that certificate, you will be allowed to work on cases on your own. Until then Bobbi or I will be involved. No more Rave, no more bashing down doors. And don't let your powers define your worth. If anyone says anything to you about it, point me to them."
"Sure, Mom. So, if that's all?" Quentin stood and took a Boston cream donut from the box before heading for the exit. He stopped at the door for a moment, though. "You're probably going to regret this," he said softly, "but . . . thanks."
